Heal
by FredandGeorgefreak
Summary: Living with a mental illness is never easy, especially not for Ivan. He hasn't had trouble with being alone for years, but all of that changes when a Chinese boy named Yao transfers to his school. All of the walls that Ivan has built up around him are starting to fall. But it isn't certainly for the better.
1. Chapter 1

Ivan Braginsky was not a stranger to the fetal position. He knew it too well for him to admit. With his knees curled into his chest, arms shielding his face from the rest of the world who so coldly looked down on him, he felt as safe as someone like him possibly could.

Thanksgiving break was a blessing and a curse. He escaped school for a week only to have to return to school the next Monday. It was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on him.

Why was he like this? Why did school frighten him so? Tests were a breeze, and he was far from socially anxious. What else could possibly be so terrible that he couldn't stand the idea of leaving the safety of his bedroom?

The doctors called it Reactive Attachment Disorder. He called it hell.

It meant that getting close to someone was the biggest no-no in the book of his life. And not just physically. They had told him that making friends came with the price of withdrawal. He would need them as if they were air, and just like air, if he didn't have them, he wouldn't be able to breathe. Usually when friends disbanded, all you were left with was broken promises and tears. But Ivan was different. He was left with panic attacks and depression.

"Choose your friends wisely," they warned him. He did them one better; he didn't choose them at all.

People deemed him as shy, as if he chose not to speak to his fellow classmates. In reality, he pushed them away. Not out of hostility but out of fear. Getting close to someone would only hurt him in the end. Just as his parents did those years ago.

They were who he really blamed. They knew that blizzards were dangerous by themselves but even more when they drove through them. It didn't bring them home. It only brought them hypothermia. Their limbs froze, and their blood ran cold. The doctors had tried to revive them, but by the time the ambulance had arrived, they were both human icicles.

Ivan was left with no one after that. No one but his sisters. Being the middle child was bad on its own but having a mental illness and being stuck in a house with Katyusha and Natalia was the icing on the cake.

It wasn't like they were terrible. They were quite sweet. Katyusha was at least. Both just had their quirks. Katyusha was kind and knew how to cheer someone up, but she was quite possibly the biggest crybaby he knew. And while Natalia was pretty, she had horrible people skills, always following around her big brother, driving Ivan to the point of hysteria. But they were the only family he had left. And he was stuck with them whether he liked it or not.

"Ivan!" Speak of the devil. At least it was the tamer of the two devils. "It's seven o'clock. Are you almost ready?"

"No," he mumbled, throwing his blanket over his head. "I'm not going."

"Oh, little brother, you are so stubborn." Without warning or permission, Katyusha entered the room, seating herself down onto his bed. "What's troubling you?"

He scoffed. She asked as if she didn't already know. "The same thing that's been troubling me since I was seven. It's always the same, Katy."

That was all that was ever wrong. No matter how hard his sisters tried to understand his predicament, they never completely would. They didn't have to be afraid of making friends. They had friends, something he hadn't had since elementary school. And he was _lonely_. But then again, wouldn't anyone be?

Peaking out from underneath his blanket shield, a bit of his silvery blonde hair falling into his violet eyes, he gazed hopelessly up at his sister. "Can't I just stay home? I think I'm coming down with something." He coughed softly into his hand for emphasis, rubbing at a fake soreness in his throat. Katyusha raised an eyebrow, smiling almost pitifully down at her younger brother.

"Nice try," she said, pulling the blanket off of him. "But that isn't going to work, not this time." Rats. Well, Ivan supposed Katyusha could only believe that one five or so times before she finally figured out his ploy. She never was the brightest sunflower in the field. "Now, up, up, up! We've got to leave in fifteen minutes to get you to school on time."

"I mean…" Ivan trailed off, eyes glancing subtly at the clock on his bedside table. "I don't _have _to get to school on time- ouch!" He yelped in pain as Katyusha tugged on his ear, dragging him out of bed. That was her secret weapon that she had been using on him since he was five. How could he still fall for that?

Yanking him over to stand in front of his closet, she strolled out of the room, proud of her work. "Thirteen minutes!" she sang over her shoulder.

Heaving a sigh, searching through his closet, Ivan pulled out a pair of simple blue jeans and his usual tan sweatshirt. Why attempt to dress to impress when he really wasn't trying to impress anyone? Flipping his favorite white scarf around his neck, running his fingers through his hair, he picked up his school bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

Another bright, sunny day of isolation greeted him as he made his trek down the stairs. Nervously walking into the kitchen, he creeped around Natalia, pleading with the man upstairs that she wouldn't notice him. But no one should underestimate Natalia or her hearing. Not a second before he took a step around her chair was she wrapped around his waist, staring up at him with her vulture-like blue eyes. "Good morning, big brother," she said, voice purring in a deep monotone that only made her more frightening.

"Good morning, sister," he replied shakily, making to move away, only to have her slide out of her seat onto the floor, landing face first on the tile. Though her arms stayed enfolded around him, her grip softened. Regardless of how terrifyingly creepy she was, she was still his younger sister, and he still cared about her, deep, deep down, possibly as far down as his appendix. And that would eventually have to be removed so even farther down.

Heaving her tiny frame up so that she was standing back upright on her feet, he fixed the bow on the top of her head, giving her a slight grin. "You should be more careful, or you will hurt yourself." Perhaps he was playing into her little stalker fantasy, but what could he do?

Cold and startling, as per usual, Natalia's face broke out into a sinister, almost insane, Cheshire cat smile. "Oh, big brother, you are so nice to me."

Ivan gulped. 'Note to self: never help Natalia again.'

.

Just like a dog, Ivan could not sit still in the car but for the exact opposite reason. Instead of wanting to arrive at their destination, he wanted to heave the gearshift into reverse and floor it.

Each day, he went into the large, three storied brick building and felt like nothing more than a prisoner, feet shackled to the floors so that he couldn't escape. Every moment was an unknown chance for attachment. Teachers would pair him to finish assignments. He would have to talk to people, interact with people. What if someone asked him about himself? What if they said something about themselves? They were all too big of risks to take.

There was a point when he had had one friend, simply by force. One of his teachers during his freshmen year saw his intelligent potential and insisted that he tutor one of his struggling students. And those words were the equivalent of a horror story to Ivan.

Toris was a quiet boy, quieter than Ivan, if it were possible. He kept to himself, and even if he did try in all of his classes, he had trouble regardless of his attempts. He had shoulder length, chestnut brown hair and kind, emerald eyes. His voice, when he used it, was soft and rarely raised above a whisper.

And that was what had attracted him to Ivan. He was quirky and outcasted, just as he

was. Though he highly doubted that Toris had the same dumb, friend repelling mental disorder that had cursed him. But at the very least it was a change of scenery from his sisters; and who was to say that this mysterious boy would even like him? Tutoring was strictly tutoring. At first it was.

Toris was irrationally hopeless when it came to basically every subject he took. Ivan figured it was because he was from some European country that he had never heard of. Lithuania, did his teacher say? Whatever it was, it sounded rather wimpy to him. There was only one area that Toris excelled in. Math.

"Math is the same everywhere after all, yes?" he had asked as he hurried through his algebra worksheet, which only took him fifteen minutes out of the scheduled hour they had devoted to tutoring.

"I suppose so," Ivan mumbled quickly, eyes down casted towards his own homework. He had done the same problem three times in a row, but he needed to find someway to distract himself from Toris's uncomfortable stare.

"You do not talk much." Obvious was an understatement at that point. Ivan _never _spoke to Toris unless it was undeniably necessary. Most of the time, he would just point out his mistake, show him how to do what he had gotten wrong correctly, and then go back to curling himself into his chair. "I do not think I have ever heard you talk until now. Why is that?"

Why did it even matter to him? They weren't friends. Ivan didn't have friends. He was just stuck with him until he got his act together and got his grades out of the failing range.

"Can you not speak very good English either? Are you from another country as well?" Toris asked, leaning in closer. And when did he move so close to him? Ivan could feel his heart against his chest, and he was pretty sure Toris could hear it too. Shyness was a side effect of not talking to, well, anyone. He wasn't sure he knew how to talk to people anymore. Social skills were a mystery. But no one before Toris had even attempted to converse with him.

"No. I was born here," Ivan replied blankly, not looking up from his homework. He hoped Toris would drop it, he hoped that he was that type of person. Sadly, his quiet persona only seemed to be a façade. Behind his soft face was an obnoxious chatterbox.

"Then what are you? Well, I know you are American. But you are something else as well, yes? Everyone is. Like this boy in my biology class, his name is Ravis, he is Latvian. And his friend, Eduard, he's Estonian. Oh! And there's this Swiss boy in-"

"Russia. My parents were from Russia," Ivan grunted through gritted teeth. This kid didn't stop! It was like his mouth was a battery that never ran out of juice.

"Russia is so big and scary! Lithuania is very close to Russia, and my family went there one time. It was so cold, and the people looked so sad, which made me really sad. Not like Lithuania. Lithuania is bright and beautiful!" The day was turning into Ivan's biggest fear: someone was telling him about himself. Never had he bothered to learn anything about a person than their name; less possibility for attachment that way.

He tried his hardest to block out what Toris was saying, struggling to find something else to focus on. Nothing could prevent his words from sticking to Ivan's mind like a fly in a spider web. After they got there, there was no use of trying to get them out; they were stuck.

He was an only child. He favored classic Lithuanian food to the greasy, soggy fast food of America. Basketball was the most famous Lithuanian sport, and he was hoping to join the school's basketball team, even though "you Americans cannot play for shit."

Then there came the most haunted question. "What about you? What are you like?"

The metaphorical wall he had placed between himself and the rest of the world was crumbling before his eyes. He had worked so hard to build it, and after years of mental labor, he had finally come to the painful conclusion that being alone wasn't that bad. There was no escape for him either; Katyusha didn't get out of her college class for another thirty minutes. He was trapped.

"I'm not anything," Ivan answered softly yet truthfully. He really was the definition of nothing. There wasn't much he enjoyed other than isolating himself in his room.

"You must be something," Toris urged. "What is something interesting about you?"

Nothing, he wanted to say, just to annoy the boy more. But in return he would just press him for more. "I like sunflowers." It was the only thing that came to his mind. He had always found the tall, yellow plant beautiful in all respects.

"Sunflowers really are lovely. Though I have only seen pictures. Lithuania is very cold, kind of like Russia, so they cannot grow there."

The next week, Ivan had brought Toris a sunflower. Just the way his face lit up when it was placed in his hands made Ivan give off the slightest hint of a smile. He was falling back into his disease before he even realized it.

With each tutoring session, they talked more and more. Toris did most of the talking, of course, while Ivan just sat and listened. Nevertheless, each time, Toris would strive to get something new out of him. If on impulse, Ivan would comply, and every time it got easier. While he thought it was a good thing that he was able to finally open up to someone without moving closer and closer to the brink of insanity, he couldn't have been more wrong. And realization didn't hit him until it was too late.

Not a month later did he experience how drastic his illness was. Not even grasping just what he was doing, Ivan felt a hollow, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had felt for years. Something was missing. And there was no secrecy as to what that something was.

Climbing out of his window, Ivan had raced down his street, bound for Toris's house. He had a need for him, and if it wasn't fulfilled, madness would take over his entire body. Now, he had never been to Toris's house nor had the two of them even discussed Ivan coming over. But Google Earth really was a marvelous invention. Even after that, Ivan had failed to see how he was becoming his disorder. Toris, the only friend he had, the only one outside of his family who seemed to care about him, blinded him.

Stalking was an understatement at this point. Ivan ascended up the large oak tree just opposite Toris's bedroom, crawling across the branch that lead straight to his window. Tapping on the glass, he waited impatiently, a bright, wild smile set on his lips.

Out came Toris, clad in checkered red pajamas, surprised and dumbfounded at what he found waiting for him. "Ivan?" he hissed, a hint of fear lingering in his voice. "What are you doing here? It is the middle of the night! How…How do you even know where I live? I do not think I ever told you."

Disregarding what he had said, Ivan detached himself from his tree limb and jumped into Toris's bedroom. He took in every sight he could; he needed to know everything about Toris so that he could always feel like he was with him, even when he couldn't be.

"Ivan!" Toris called, quiet enough for his parents to stay asleep but loud enough to get how he truly felt across. "What are you doing here? You are scaring me!"

"I just wanted to see Toris," Ivan explained sweetly, sitting down on his bed. "I missed him. Did Toris miss me?"

"What? Ivan, it is two in the morning! Tell me how you knew where my house was! Or else…Or else I will call the police!"

"Oh, but then they will take me away from Toris. And that will make me very sad." Grabbing onto Toris's sleeve, Ivan pulled Toris onto the bed with him, wrapping both arms around him. "We should stay like this. It's much better being together than being apart."

Toris managed to get a hold of his cell phone and called the police without a moment of hesitation. Luckily, Katyusha had been worriedly searching for her younger brother. After putting two and two together, the police let Ivan go. Not soon after did Toris's parents leave town after hearing how their son had become friends with a "mentally unstable" boy. Ivan figured they were right about that one.

After Toris left, Ivan fell into a deep depression, barely leaving his room. It was as if someone had taken his heart in their palm and cut the part of it labeled Toris out.

The police couldn't just let the stalking of an innocent individual be left unresolved, so they compromised with Katyusha; they found it unfair to arrest a boy that wasn't right in the head. They came to the agreement that he would attend a support group for people like him, all of them having mental issues that made their lives more difficult. He was to report to it once a week, and he didn't dare deny their demand. He could've gotten off much worse.

Still, Toris was the last real friend he had had, and Ivan had hurt him in a way that made his depression only worsen. How could he even think of hurting someone he cared about? When he had gone to Toris's house, his brain had fuzzed over, as if something else entirely was controlling him. Reactive Detachment Disorder didn't allow you to have any more power than it wanted you to have. And because of that, Ivan cut himself off. If he came to care for another like he had Toris, he would only cause them more pain; he couldn't bear that.

The Braginsky's car stopped in the school parking lot. Unlocking the doors, Katyusha turned to look back at her younger siblings. "Have a good day at school, you two. I'll be back to pick you up around three. Natalia, don't follow your brother around all day again. I don't want another call from the principal about that." Leaning back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, Natalia's face flushed red. "And, Ivan. Please don't worry so much. School really isn't that bad."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, throwing open the door. He knew his sister was just trying to be supportive, but he couldn't help it; he just wanted the day to be over.

Waiting for Natalia, the two walked through the front doors together. He was pale as a sheet, and his legs were so clearly wobbling as he moved. Returning to school after a weekend was hard enough, but after an entire weeklong break, Ivan was sure he was going to lose it.

"Do not be afraid, big brother," Natalia said, staring up at him. "I will protect you."

Her words didn't startle him as much as they typically would. They even sounded the slightest big comforting, which was weird since it was coming from Natalia. But he would take everything he could get at that point. He even let her hold his hand as they walked. Playing into her game was getting easier by the day. But this time, he was pretty sure he was holding her hand because he wanted to, not the other way around.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

The amount of restaurants that sold hamburgers in this country disgusted Yao. Though, he supposed every nation had their faults.

America was a large, confusing land of fast food chains and overly energetic citizens; at least, that was all Yao could tell from the few days that he had been in the country. It was nothing like China.

China was cultured, brightly colored with red and gold, and smelled of rice and vegetables rather than fried chicken and sugar cookies. He never wanted to leave the bustling cities with the polite store clerks and old ladies that visited the farmers market every Sunday. And he probably never would have if not for his father.

Niu Wang was a hard working man who, despite his hardships, loved his children and his wife. His entire world seemed to revolve around them. At least it did until Atushi Honda butted his way into the picture of Niu's seemingly perfect life.

Atushi was handsome, no one could deny it, with money to spare. Having worked with Niu at some point or another, the two bumped into each other on the street one day, chattering away while Niu's wife, who had tagged along for a day filled with the promise of clothes shopping, plotted. Rich and good looking was all that mattered to Yao's mother, who he, to this day, refused to name. She didn't deserve that right.

She had wanted a divorce. She wanted to be with Atushi, to have the money he earned in her pockets. Niu was crushed, but his heart crumbled when she demanded even more from him. She wanted their youngest son, Kiku, Yao's little brother, for her own. And she had him. At age one, Kiku was ripped away from his brother and father and taken to Japan, only to be raised by another man who would never be able to show him the love that Niu and Yao had.

Niu fell into a state of depression, like everyone figured he would. Yao, aged five, didn't see his lively father anymore. Instead of throwing himself into his work, he threw himself into a bar almost every night, drowning his sorrow with alcohol. Countless nights, Yao would stay with his grandparents. It was a childhood nobody wanted to imagine that he had lived.

The greatest day was the day that Yao's mother died eleven years later, and he had no shame in saying so. He wanted her to suffer just as he and his father had. But he never thought it would hurt Kiku in the process. After the death of his wife, Atushi fled Japan, leaving Kiku, a young child of only twelve, by himself. Child services found him later that very week, calling up Niu, and returning him to his father.

Nothing had made Niu happier than having his son back with him, and Yao felt similar. His baby brother, his _daih daih_, had been returned to him after so long. But Kiku was so different from when he was a baby; he was so distant and cut off from the rest of humanity. Rarely did he speak, having not remembered a lick of Chinese. Every time Yao tried to converse with him, Kiku would ramble in Japanese about how he couldn't understand what he was saying. They got him a tutor to teach him both Chinese and English; while the Chinese lessons failed, his English progressed little by little to the point where Yao could finally talk to him again.

They didn't talk about their mother, for the sake of their father's sanity and their own. She was gone, and she could no longer hurt them as she did. Their father was independent and didn't need a woman around the house to help him. That was, until he met Hei-Ran, a kind Korean woman he had ran into on one of business trips.

For months, they sent letters back and forth before she finally flew out to China to live with the Wang family, along with her young son, Im Yong Soo, whose excitement was far too much for both Yao and Kiku to handle.

But they liked Hei-Ran. She cooked authentic Korean dishes for them and told them stories that were a big change from the old Chinese tales they were used to. And finally, after two long, agonizing years, they tied the knot, finally bringing their family together for good.

Still, Yao had his doubts. What if his new mother left him and Niu like his other had? He learned that he had nothing to fear. Hei-Ran was nothing like that other woman that had ruined the only childhood he had.

Their lives had changed drastically. They had two extra bodies in the house permanently now, which meant two extra mouths to feed. Niu worked as hard as he could, taking on more hours than he was used to, just to make ends meet. It didn't go unseen by his boss, for not a month later had he offered Niu a promotion that would send him across the ocean to the United States to their corporate office. The promise of double the pay and a bigger house sealed the deal.

That was how they had ended up in the land of body spray and rap music. The books he had read didn't really explain the atmosphere of America, but Yao supposed nothing really could; it was indescribable.

Their new house was twice the size of the other they had had in China with enough space so that each boy could have his own room. It excited Yao but seemed to frighten Kiku. Alone. The idea radiated his body with a thick bile. He didn't want to be alone after all the years he had spent with their deceased mother. So after much pleading, Yao agreed to let Kiku sleep in his bed while he slept on the floor.

Days went by. Adjusting was difficult, and November was coming closer and closer to an end. The subject of school was rarely brought up over dinner, but Niu and Hei-Ran would sneak into Yao's room while Kiku was asleep. "We know it is difficult," Niu would say. "But we cannot allow you to stay out of school for much longer. You understand, don't you, Yao?" He did.

They couldn't avoid the rest of the world forever, no matter how much they wanted to. Their trust had faded after their mother betrayed them, but not everyone was like her. They had to realize that.

Yao discussed the issue with Kiku, Im Yong Soo barging in as well. The small Korean boy loved the idea of new friends and being the center of attention while Kiku was the opposite. Being the new student meant lots of staring, and Kiku hated when people stared at him. No amount of promises of things turning out all right appealed to him.

Nevertheless, they couldn't keep shying away from school. So when that fateful Monday rolled around, Yao tried his hardest to make Kiku less nervous. He woke up early to pick out his clothes for him. He made rice with miso soup and dried seaweed, just like he would eat for breakfast in Japan. Everything seemed to appeal to him, until they got into the car, first dropping Im Yong Soo off at his junior high school. They pulled up to a brick building that looked more like a prison than anything else. Yao could practically feel the fear radiating from his brother. Giving him a soft smile, he helped him out of the car, even going as far as holding his bag for him as he walked into the building, Kiku following behind him like a duckling.

The first thing they noticed was how crowded it was. Back in China, schools were small. No more than a few hundred students would clamber through the halls; but this school seemed to have thousands bustling about. Kiku clung to his arm, afraid of being swallowed by the mass sea of people surrounding them.

"Like, are you two okay?" a loud, high-pitched voice broke over the chatter of the students. Yao searched for who was speaking when his eyes landed on a petit, green-eyed man with shoulder length blonde hair. Clad in a salmon colored dress shirt and white, was that a skirt?, he waved them over to him. "You look totally lost. Like, are you new?" He looked too old to be a student but at the same time, far too young to be a teacher. "My name is Mr. Łukasiewicz. But like, nobody can say that. So just like, call me Feliks, 'kay?" Blinking in confusion, Yao could only nod as the mysterious man in the skirt pulled him away.

"Bella!" he called, tugging him and Kiku into a brightly lit office. "I think we like have some new students! Can you like come here?"

Another blonde, Yao swore, all the people in this country seemed to be blonde, poked her head from behind a door, face breaking out into a wide smile. "Hello!" she said. "You must be our two new exchange students. Yao and Kiku, right? I'm sorry if Feliks here scared you a bit. He tends to do that."

"Bella, that was like totally mean!"

Brushing off her coworker's whining, the woman continued, "We're counselors here, and we just want to make your time here as easy as possible. So if you have any questions just come and look for us. We'll be happy to help, won't we Feliks?"

Feliks didn't seem to notice. He was fluffing his hair with one hand, the other holding a small compact mirror. Pursing his lips, he blew a kiss at his reflection before examing his fingernails.

"Feliks!" Bella tried once more.

"What? Oh, yeah, totally!" he cheered happily, though Yao highly doubted he knew what they were talking about. His current opinion on America really wasn't getting much better than his initial one.

Bella grabbed two folders, handing one to Yao and the other to Kiku. "This is just some background about what goes on around here. There's a map in there along with your schedules. We called two students a few minutes ago to show you two around, but they don't seem to be – oh, Herakles, there you are!" A tall brunette walked up to the four, green eyes blinking tiredly. "Kiku, this is Herakles. He's a sophomore, since most of our freshmen are still getting used to the school themselves! But I think you two will get along nicely. I promise, he doesn't bite."

Yao took another look at the boy; he didn't know if he trusted him with Kiku. Then again, he didn't really trust anyone with Kiku. They had trusted his mother with him and look where that got them.

Kiku didn't look that sure either. Glancing between Herakles and Yao, he shuffled closer to his brother. He really could be cute sometimes. Handing him his bag, Yao flashed him a smile. What good would it be if they were both nervous? Being the supportive older brother he knew he was meant to be, he nudged Kiku closer to Herakles.

"We're going now," Herakles stated simply, turning around to walk out of the office, probably expecting Kiku to follow. Nervously sharing one last look with Yao, Kiku took off after his guide, falling in stride with him.

"Hm," Bella said, looking down worriedly at her watch. "Your guide was meant to be here as well, but I'm not sure what's going on. He's always been a good student, I wonder what's keeping him."

"It's alright," Yao assured her. "I'm sure I can find my way on my own."

"I'm sorry I am late, Ms. Janssens!" a new voice interjected. Yao looked up but realized he had to look up even more. The boy that stood in front of him was a giant. He could easily take Yao out with one hit, but he didn't believe that would be an issue, what with the softness and possible nervousness in his violet eyes.

"Ivan! Hello! I hope your break was well." But the boy had fallen silent. He nodded, eyes looking anywhere but Bella and Yao. "This is Yao. He just transferred here from China, and we needed someone to show him around." The nervousness in those violet eyes grew, and Yao's curiosity only grew from it. He looked so uncomfortable in his own skin. "That wouldn't be a problem…would it?"

Ivan looked like he wanted to say no, but he didn't. "It's no problem," he muttered.

"Great!" Bella said, clapping her hands together. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! I hope you have a good first day, Yao. Come by if you have any questions!" And with that, she retreated back into her office.

That left just the two of them. Ivan still wouldn't look at Yao, only at his shoes. Yao was at a loss for words. Wasn't he supposed to be the nervous one in this duo, not him? What a puzzling boy.

Doing the only thing he thought was right, Yao thrust out his hand towards Ivan, but it didn't seem like he would return the gesture. "I am Yao Wang. It is a pleasure to meet you." When Ivan was unfazed, Yao let his arm fall to his side. Was he offending some American custom that he was unaware about? Or maybe the boy was just shy.

"Ivan," he finally responded, though his voice didn't match his body. It was as if he had been going through puberty, and his voice just got stuck in between. It was like a bear's stature with a mouse's squeak. Shouldering his bag, Ivan began to leave the office. No words were shared, but Yao figured he was supposed to go after him.

The American people were such characters. So far he had met a mild drag queen, an overly excited blonde, a sleep-deprived boy who was somewhere alone with his brother, and now a silent giant. He felt like he had been thrown onto the Island of Misfit Toys. Nothing seemed to fit together. Well, he supposed that was all America was.

.

Somehow, Ivan always seemed to pull the short stick in life. The universe really seemed to hate him for some reason. Maybe it had something against Russians with mental disorders. All he really knew for sure was that by the end of the day he would be a puddle of anxiety.

It was when he had been pulled out of his first period class that he had gotten confused. He figured Natalia had been ditching class again to try and find him, but never would he have expected to find what he had waiting for him in the front office.

A boy, no bigger than five foot four stood patiently, a perplexed glow surrounding him. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and if Ms. Janssens hadn't told him before hand, he would've thought that this boy, Yao, was a terribly flat chested girl. Big, brown eyes turned their gaze to him, and he knew that the glimpse he had gotten of the boy would be his last. Staring was forbidden for people like him.

With little time to process the situation, Ivan was walking down the hall with Yao in tow. What was he meant to do now? He couldn't talk to him, but he also couldn't abandon him; no matter how afraid he was, he refused to leave Yao helpless in the middle of a three-story school filled with twists and turns.

But the thought of Toris kept weeding its way into his mind. There was always the slightest chance that this boy could turn out just like him, and Ivan could cause him immense pain that he never meant to inflict on him. Running away was the easy way out; the doors were so badly monitored that he could sneak out without anyone noticing nor caring.

"Um, Ivan," Yao's voice tore through his thoughts. "You stopped. Is there something wrong?" Ivan hadn't even realized that he had stopped walking, in the middle of the hall no less. Blushing, Ivan kept moving forward.

"So, are you a senior as well?" Yao asked, breaking the silence that Ivan had so cherished.

No. Yao was talking about himself. It was just how his friendship with Toris had begun, and he couldn't deal with that again. After that situation, he had gotten good at tuning out what people were saying. Perhaps it wasn't the most polite thing to do; but if it would save other people in the process, so be it.

Soon, it would be over, he kept reminding himself. He didn't have to befriend this boy or even pay him any mind. He was just showing him around for the day. Then they would part ways as complete strangers.

He found it harder and harder to block out Yao as they continued up the stairs. For a small thing, he really did have a lot to say; he was probably just trying to be nice. Heaven knew that someone in that school needed to be.

Stopping in front of a classroom, Ivan held his breath as he turned towards Yao. One thing. He only needed to tell him one thing, and he'd get to leave. "Have a good day" or "See you around" or even a simple "Goodbye." But when he opened his mouth, it was so dry that he couldn't get any words to come out. Luckily, he didn't have to.

"Thank you, Ivan," Yao said, sending Ivan probably the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Only then had he realized that he was staring again. But he couldn't help but do so. When people smiled at him, it was always with a hint of fear. But Yao's smile was different. The edges of his mouth were soft, and his eyes seemed to glisten in their own type of smile. It only made Ivan's mouth drier and his knees grow weaker.

Disappearing into the classroom, Yao gave Ivan one last wave. Ivan's heart thumped against his ribcage as he did. He seemed like a nice boy, but nice was just another thing Ivan couldn't get himself involved in. Nice was just a factor that added up to an even bigger disaster.

So no, that heart thumping was nothing but surprise that someone had deemed him worthy enough of such a charming smile. Right? Denial was never a good thing, but when you were Ivan, it was all you could really rely on.

Making his way to his own classroom, Ivan sighed. What had he done so wrong that he had turned out as he had? Life wasn't fair, they said. Hell no, it wasn't.

Sliding into his seat in his Calculus class, he felt a few confused gazes on him, but he simply brushed them away. They meant nothing to him. All he could think of was the heart-stopping smile a certain Chinese exchange student had given him all but five minutes before.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Everywhere Yao went, that Ivan boy seemed to be. Save for his first period class, Yao felt like he was following Ivan wherever he went. But Ivan didn't seem to notice. Or he was just ignoring him completely. Was Yao that unappealing?

And it wasn't like Yao wasn't trying. Every so often, Ivan would glance over in Yao's direction, which gave him the chance to send him a small wave. Ivan's only reaction was a dark blush and a grimace before he turned back around.

A strange, blonde giant was the least of Yao's worries. The American educational system was his first. Sure, classes were easier, and all of the material was covering subjects he had already learned about back in China. But classes weren't the basis of school. Popularity was.

Within a single day, Yao could see it with his own eyes. Just the way people walked, you could clearly tell how their high school career was treating them. A couple stood against a locker, completely oblivious of the world around them. The boy seemed to be more interested in eating his girlfriend's face than kissing it. Not a few feet away from them, a girl sat against a wall, nose buried in a book as a group of boys pointed at her from the other end of the school and laughed.

In China, they had cliques and social groups, but never to this extent, and they most definitely didn't have the names for them as Americans did. Nerds, jocks, rejects, druggies, the list went on.

Where did that leave him? No one seemed to care who he was or where he was from. All they cared about was the fact that he was the new kid. Fresh meat, they said. And everyone brushed him aside, just as the Ivan boy did.

But that was the other thing; Ivan didn't appear to be pushing him away simply because it would ruin his social status. Yao seriously doubted he had any at all. Still, it didn't explain why he was acting so strange. And no matter how unusual Ivan was, he intrigued Yao like no other. All Americans were interesting but not how Ivan was.

He was tall in stature but looked small in confidence. He could probably knock Yao unconscious just by breathing on him, but those violet eyes held no sense of harm. And what eyes they were. No one Yao had ever met had eyes a shade of purple. They seemed out of place on Ivan's stone cold face, yet looked so natural with the flush that always seemed to don his cheeks.

_Stop it, Yao_, he told himself. _Who cares about that boy? He doesn't seem interested at all in you, so why should you take any interest in him?_

With a sigh, Yao collected his books from his desk as the final bell rang. The day was uneventful but long. He was ready to go home and collapse on the couch, perhaps even make himself a cup of tea. Regardless, he was ready to leave school as quickly as he could.

But he couldn't leave without Kiku. He hadn't seen his younger brother all day, and it had worried him. He was already so cautious on his own; what would he be like around so many new people? Especially when Yao couldn't keep his eye on him?

Worry edging at his brain, Yao sped up and walked to the front of the school where he told Kiku he'd meet him. No one was there besides a few kids he couldn't recognize.

He didn't allow himself to panic. The bell had only just rung; Kiku was probably at his locker or on his way.

Sitting down on one of the benches near the doors, Yao flipped through his biology book absentmindedly. All he needed to do was keep his hands busy so that he didn't worry about Kiku. And when he showed up, he'd feel silly for fussing so much in the first place.

Five minutes passed. And then ten. When Yao looked up at the clock and realized school had ended twenty minutes prior, he felt his heart pulsate. What was going on? Where was his brother? He was probably taken by seniors. Or maybe he was shoved into a locker and couldn't get out. Or he was unconscious in a classroom.

Tugging on the end of his ponytail, Yao grumbled to himself, "Get it together, you idiot. You're over reacting. Just go into the office, and ask them if they've seen him."

Just as he rounded the corner towards the office door, he saw Kiku walking towards him from the opposite direction. But he wasn't alone. The boy who had escorted him that morning, Heracles, was with him, a stiff arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Kiku!" Yao exclaimed, running towards the two boys. "I was waiting for you! What took you so long? School ended twenty minutes ago!"

Kiku said nothing. He kept his head down, refusing to even so much as glance at Yao. Confused and alarmed, Yao turned his gaze to Heracles who was too busy looking down at Kiku to notice him.

"What happened?" Yao asked, this time directed at Heracles.

Looking up, Heracles, green eyes blank and vacant, shrugged. "We were in math, and he started breathing hard. He tried to walk, but he just collapsed in the hallway. He would not talk to me, so I just waited until he could breathe again. I took his bag and brought him here." Handing Kiku's backpack to Yao, Heracles stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I need to go. My cats are home alone, and no one is there to feed them. Goodbye, Kiku. I will see you tomorrow." Without another word, he turned away and was gone.

A rush of emotions washed over Yao as he turned his attention back to his brother. He couldn't breathe? Why couldn't he breathe? "Kiku," Yao said, edging closer to him. "What happened in math class?"

Nothing. Kiku wavered as he stood, grabbing onto Yao's shirtsleeve for support. Shaking his head, he tugged on Yao, shuffling towards the door. He wanted to go home.

Nodding, Yao lead Kiku out the door and down the front steps. They didn't speak. Not about school, not about their days, not about anything.

As they made their way home, Kiku still latched onto his sleeve, Yao's thoughts took over his mind. Why had the day gone so hectically? America was different, but surely it couldn't be so different that his brother ended up breathless. How was he meant to explain that to his parents? 'Oh, school was fine. I met a silent giant, and Kiku almost died.'

"It is called a panic attack," Kiku said, breaking Yao out of his thoughts. If the silence between them hadn't been so prominent, he wouldn't have heard Kiku's soft whisper at all. "That is why I could not breathe."

"Who told you that?" Yao asked, brow furrowed.

"Heracles did. He said his mother used to have them before she passed away. He said she could not breathe, and she felt dizzy and couldn't see straight. That is what happened."

"Have you had these before?" Kiku shook his head. "Do you know why you had it?"

"There were a lot of people. They were all trying to get to the door, and I was…stuck between them all. I felt…trapped, I suppose. But I do not think that it is a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Yao asked. By then, they had already approached their house, but neither of them made a move to go inside. "Kiku, you couldn't breathe. That _is_ a big deal!"

"No," Kiku said, shaking his head. "I was just overwhelmed. That is all. Really, Yao, please do not worry so much. Now, come, Mother is waiting for us." Retrieving his bag from Yao, Kiku pushed open the door without another word, Yao following him.

"Boys!" Hei-Ran said happily as they entered the kitchen. Dusting her hands on her apron, she smiled at them both. "I've made cookies, do you want some?"

"Thank you, but I think I will go to my room," Kiku said, giving their stepmother a gentle grin. "I have homework to do."

"Kiku," Yao said sternly, but Kiku sent him a look that urged him to keep his mouth shut. And how was he meant to deny his little brother when he looked at him with his wide, brown eyes and sad pout? He nodded in approval, watching Kiku disappear up the stairs in sadness.

Yao felt his heart drop to his stomach. Something was so obviously wrong, but Kiku was shutting him out. He had always been aloof, but this was different.

"He's been so quiet lately," Hei-Ran said with a sigh. "The move must be so hard on him. Hopefully, he'll adjust soon."

"Yes," Yao said aloud while his mind screamed _will he?_

Ever since they came to America, Kiku had been so different. He had always stuck to Yao, but this wasn't that. He refused to part from him, not out of love for his big brother but out of fear of everyone else. At first, Yao figured it must have been because of his memories of living in Japan. But as time went on, that idea seemed less and less relevant. It could be the move, but was it really that bad that it would send him into a panic attack?

Hei-Ran rested her hand on Yao's shoulder, rubbing it softly. "You worry about him too much. He is getting older, you mustn't fuss over him like you do."

"Perhaps you're right," Yao said. But then again, perhaps she was wrong.

"I'm sure of it. Now, how was your day, Yao?"

* * *

><p>Ivan felt like he was truly insane every time he walked up the steps of the blue house on the corner of his street. And maybe he was. But that didn't make him feel any better.<p>

Support group met every Monday at exactly six o'clock. Attendance was mandatory. If someone didn't show up and they didn't have a good enough reason as to why they were absent, they would feel the wrath of one Ludwig Beilschmidt.

There was nothing wrong with Ludwig. He was just a bit strict and demanding. Why he decided to take on the role of being a support group leader, Ivan didn't know. But he had the control part down.

The compassion and understanding part was where he struggled. He was nice, and he listened to everyone; he just didn't know how to respond to them. And that was where Feliciano came in.

If Ludwig was the one with structure and schedules, Feliciano was the opposite. He was always smiling, and when he wasn't, he was crying. He was emotional, which was what everyone in that room needed. He listened, but unlike Ludwig, he answered, always sweet and patient. The two contrasted each other in every possible way, but god, Ivan didn't know any couple more stable.

They bickered a bit, but it was always in good fun. It was never super serious, and if it was, Feliciano would burst into tears and Ludwig would try and console him when the first tear slid down his boyfriend's face.

Ivan couldn't help but feel jealous. Never in his life would he be able to have what those two had. And it was all because of his damn disorder.

Knocking on the door, Ivan hid his face in his scarf, waiting. Support group wasn't so bad, but it always wore him out.

"Ivan!" Feliciano said happily, grinning at him. "It's so nice to see you again! Come inside!"

Stepping into the house, Ivan was lead into the living room, where the rest of the group already sat. In a circle of chairs, the others were silent. Ludwig was writing in a notebook, his reading glasses situated on his nose.

Ivan felt Feliciano nudge him towards an empty chair before taking his own seat next to Ludwig. Slowly, Ivan sat down in between a boy named Alfred and another boy named Lovino.

Alfred was loud and self-centered, which only made him seem painfully ironic. Ivan had known Alfred since middle school; he always wanted to be the center of attention, and when all eyes weren't on him, he did everything in his power to fix that.

Freshmen year, everything changed. While Alfred still loved being the center of attention, he was receiving that attention because of something else. His weight.

It was normal for a teenager to gain a bit more weight than necessary, especially if said teenager was the school quarterback. But still, kids were cruel, as all adults said. For two years, the threats of "you're fat" and "put down the burger" went in Alfred's ears and stuck to his brain. It was no surprise when his cousin found him passed out on the bathroom floor. Alfred was a bag of bones when his family found him. He would barely eat, and when he did, he wouldn't eat for long after. _Anorexia_.

Lovino was Feliciano's older brother. Though related by blood, they couldn't be more different. While Feliciano was sweet and all smiles, Lovino was the human equivalent of a thunderstorm. He wasn't too thrilled of being in a support group lead by his brother. He was the older one, he was meant to be guiding Feliciano, not the other way around.

Lovino burst into a yell when the littlest of things set him off. It could be an offhanded comment or just a cough. It would throw Lovino into a fit of anger, and he wouldn't stop nor did he allow anyone to calm him from his attack. After simmering down, he became so tired and locked himself away in fear of hurting anyone else, especially his brother. _Intermittent Explosive Disorder_.

Dozing off on the opposite side of the circle was Heracles Karpusi. A sophomore at Ivan's high school, he was practically silent and almost always drifting off, even in the loudest of situations. When he did talk, it was only ever about his cats or how he wished he could go back to sleep. He said his doctors had given him pills to help, but they didn't seem to be doing much of anything.

It was dangerous. He fell asleep whilst driving once and swerved away just in time before a truck could smash right into the left side of his car. A second later and he would have been dead. _Hypersomnia_.

If someone saw a person like Berwald, tall, strong, and silent, on the street, they'd run and hide in fear. He never smiled, and his eyes were glass cold. Who wouldn't fear someone so big, so brooding?

No one would've guessed that someone so rugged and stoic could be so empty and hallow inside. His cold face wasn't how it was because he refused to be happy. He simply _couldn't_ be happy. His mind refused to allow him to feel any joy. The littlest of good that managed to wiggle its way into his life was through his husband, Tino. He was the only thing that brought a hint of a smile onto his face. Everything else was useless. _Depression_.

Curled up in a chair, eyes downcast sat Lilli Zwingli. She was on edge from the time her older brother dropped her off to the time she trampled back into his car at the end of the night. And Ivan highly doubted that it ended there.

They had all witnessed her panic attacks before. In the middle of a discussion with nothing out of the ordinary, they heard her breathing speed up. Hand on her chest, she began to cry, only adding to her pain. Feliciano knelt in front of her, whispering soothing words to her as Ludwig quickly called her brother, Vash. He was at the house within minutes, taking his sister into his arms. She refused to go to group the next week, but no one mentioned anything of it. _Panic Disorder._

They were their own Island of Misfit Toys, all broken. No one wanted to play with them; they were too messed up. Perhaps they weren't Ivan's friends, he had none. But they were the closest he had to them.

"Well, we're all here now," Ludwig said, pushing his glasses up his nose. Feliciano bounced in his chair, smiling happily at them all. "Let's begin."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

While Ivan didn't mind support group, the others didn't seem to enjoy it as much. They didn't want to face their issues head on, no one did. But that was the point of support group; they were meant to discuss how they felt, and their leaders were meant to guide them.

Most of the time, there was complete silence, everyone waiting for someone to say something to break it. And when no one did, it became even more uncomfortable. Alfred or Feliciano would say something to attempt to start a conversation, and it worked at times. Other times it didn't. It all depended on the day.

Doctors said that there were good days, and there were bad days. A day for everyone was different. What was wonderful for one person could be horrid for another. Support group was like a surprise party from hell; no one knew what was in store that day.

"Lovi, you should go first!" Feliciano leaned forward in his chair, urging his brother to speak. Feliciano never quite understood why his brother was so angry all of the time; but now that he had the ability to help him, he always tried his hardest, whether Lovino appreciated it or not.

"I don't want to talk," Lovino grumbled. "You always tell me to talk, but I don't want to talk, _fratello stupido. Non posso trattare con voi a volte…_"

He trailed off in Italian, mumbling under his breath. Feliciano's smile faltered as if he were going to start crying, but he didn't. He refused to cry over what his group said; he wasn't the one that needed consoling, he had told them all that after an incident where Lovino got too angry for Feliciano _not_ to cry. He promised it wouldn't happen again, and he kept his word.

"Alright," Feliciano nodded, turning towards Ivan. "What about you, Ivan? How was your day? Did anything exciting happen?"

Ivan shook his head. Nothing ever happened. His life wasn't exciting. If anything, it was uneventful.

"No," he finally said, looking at his knees. "I went back to school. I do not like school. Is very scary."

"Why is it scary?" Feliciano asked softly as Ludwig scribbled in his notebook. Ivan hated when he did that. He never knew what Ludwig was writing down, but it had to be bad. What good things came out of a sick kid's mouth?

"There are lots of people. People are bad for me. I could hurt them if I get close to them. I cannot get close to them. I will hurt them, I…"

"It's okay," Feliciano soothed. "You're opening up more, Ivan, that's good. You didn't talk as much at first. But you're making great progress. Good job." Feliciano then turned towards Alfred, asking him the same question, "How was your day?"

"My day was amazing, as usual," Alfred said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. "Coach told me that there would be college recruiters at the next game. They're all going to be fighting over me to go to their schools! And after practice, I took Arthur on a walk by the lake – real romantic of me, I must say. He's really cute, you know. There's no one cuter, at all."

"So you've mentioned," Lovino muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Man, you're just jealous 'cause I've got Arthur by my side, and you don't. When _was_ the last time you had a date, Lovino?"

"Lovino goes on lots of dates!" Feliciano defended his brother. "Antonio takes him on dates all the time! Doesn't he, fratello?"

"Shut up."

"Wait, wait, _my_ _Spanish teacher_, Antonio? Señor Carriedo? The one with the annoying voice and way too perfect to be real hair?" Alfred asked, wide eyed.

"Yes," Lovino said, teeth clenched. "Stop talking about him like that."

"Oh, only you can do that, huh?"

"We are off topic," Ludwig stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We understand that both of your boyfriends are _fantastic. _Can we please move on?"

"Aw, but, Luddy, I think it's sweet!" Feliciano insisted, hugging his boyfriend's arm, pouting. "Why don't you ever talk about me like that?"

"Feliciano," he hissed, elbowing him gently. Sitting back in his chair, Feliciano's shoulders slumped as he tucked his chin into his chest, looking defeated.

"Heracles, it's your turn," Ludwig said. The brunette was fast asleep in his chair, head lolling against his shoulder. Lilli poked him, causing him to sit up suddenly.

"What?" he said, looking towards Ludwig sheepishly.

"Your day, Heracles," he repeated, writing in his notebook.

"Oh, right. Well, I met a new boy."

"_Another _boy?" Feliciano asked curiously.

"He is a new student from China." Ivan perked up. He knew a student from China. "His name is Kiku. He is quiet but nice. He gave me his notes when I fell asleep behind him."

Ludwig looked at him skeptically. "You fell asleep again? In class?"

"Only once," Heracles said, cheeks pink. "I took my pills, like the doctor told me to. But I do not think they work very well. And what is the point in taking them if they do not work?"

"Give them time," Ludwig said, shutting his notebook. "Lilli? What about you? Any boys?"

She shook her head. "Big brother doesn't let me talk to boys."

There was soft laughter; that didn't surprise any of them. They'd only met Vash a handful of times, but he most certainly did not enjoy leaving his little sister alone for an hour with a group of all men.

"Of course," Ludwig said. "Berwald?" Nothing came from him, but that wasn't a surprise. He didn't like to talk, and he rarely did. Finally, after they all waited for him, Berwald shook his head. "Nothing?" He shook his again. "Alright."

The clock on the wall clanged; seven o'clock approached them. Standing up, Feliciano clapped his hands. "Well, that's that. Great meeting everyone! We'll meet next Monday! Have a good week!" He scampered to Lovino, rambling to him while Lovino most likely ignored him. The rest of them stood up, making their way to the door.

But Ivan couldn't move. He was still thinking of what Heracles had said. He had met a new student from China. Like Yao. But this boy wasn't Yao. But he could be related to Yao.

Standing up, Ivan rushed to Heracles before he could leave. "Heracles. May I talk to you? I have question."

Blinking, Heracles looked around to make sure he was hearing correctly. Ivan hadn't ever spoken to him until now. "Yes? What is it?"

"You said you met boy. Chinese boy. What was his name?"

"Oh, you mean Kiku. What about him?"

"Does he have brother?" he asked.

"Yes. Yao, I think Kiku said his name was. He's a senior. Wouldn't you know that better than me?" Heracles asked.

"I was just wondering. Thank you," Ivan said before shuffling out the door. Every time he talked to someone, he was left winded. The shortest of conversations terrified him. But he had gotten through it. Was he supposed to congratulate himself for talking to a person? _Good job, Ivan, you seemed somewhat normal._

Still, he couldn't shake the thought of that Yao boy. He had only seen him for a few seconds, but he was so intriguing. He couldn't help stare at him, when he wasn't looking of course. But then sometimes Yao would catch him staring. He wouldn't look away though. He'd smile. And wave. People never smiled at him. And his smile was so soft, so genuine. Like he really wanted Ivan to know that he was seriously happy to be looking at him.

In a perfect world, Ivan could've gone up to Yao, swept him into his arms, and they could've skipped into the sunset. But the world was anything but perfect. It was cruel and heartless. All Ivan could hold onto were the smiles he was so graciously granted.

* * *

><p>Yao hated English class. It was the one class he struggled in. While he had learned English back in China, it wasn't his first language. It caused him stress.<p>

The reading the teacher had handed out was blurring his vision. The difficulty of a senior English class had completely slipped his mind. They were going to be tested on the material they were given; how could he pass when he couldn't even finish the first page?

Giving up, he allowed his eyes to wander. The clock read eleven-forty. There were twenty minutes until the period ended. Distractions were key; he just needed to find one.

He tried looking out the window, but the wind blowing the leaves off of the trees could only entertain him so much. He stared at the book some more, not even attempting to read it, but the black ink made his head hurt. Instead, he scoped out the rest of the class, letting his eyes trail over the rows of students. He stopped when he hit the back of a blonde head.

The Ivan boy had his head down, reading his book ever so intently. He couldn't see much else other than the round shape of his nose and the curvature of his chin. Yao wasn't sure why he was still so interested with the boy; who was he to him? They didn't talk; they weren't friends. Ivan was just some random boy in his class, nothing more. And no matter how much he interested Yao, he highly doubted he wanted anything to do with him.

Some time between staring at Ivan's head and wondering how his eyes could be so purple that they looked like amethysts, the bell rang. Shutting his book, Yao walked as quickly as he could to the door. A few students crowded, trying to get into the hallway, but just as Yao thought he was safe to go, Ivan bumped into him. Book flying out of his hand, Yao muttered an apology before scrambling to pick it up. Just as his hand went to clutch the binding, he felt a larger hand wrap around his.

Neither of them processed what was happening. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as they looked up at each other. Ivan broke free of the daze first, hand scaring away from the book, as if Yao's hand had burned him. Yao hugged the book to his chest, glaring at his shoes.

"I apologize," Yao whispered, turning away and walking out of the door.

"It is alright," he heard Ivan call after him softly. Yao didn't think he had ever smiled wider.

* * *

><p>The day before, Yao had eaten his lunch in the hallway just outside the cafeteria. Why eat inside when he had no one to sit with? However, Bella found him and told him that he should go in and make friends. He promised her that he would the following day.<p>

Now he had the dilemma of finding somewhere to sit. Every student either looked too intimidating or too strange to him. Lunch bag in hand, Yao weaved his way through the rows of tables until he spotted one in the very back corner of the room, tucked away from everyone else.

Three blondes – was every American blonde, or was Yao just insane? – sat close to each other, laughing and sharing food. They had the kindest faces that Yao had yet to find. With hope, he approached the table, gaining the attention of the three.

"May I sit here?" he asked. "I mean, I…I just came here, and I'm not sure of what to do…"

"It's no problem," one blonde with green eyes and large eyebrows said, motioning towards one of the empty seats. "Go right ahead, mate."

Sitting down, Yao laid out his food in front of him before taking a bite of the sandwich Hei-Ran had packed him. The blondes were quiet until one with blue eyes said, "What's your name?"

"I'm Yao Wang," he replied. "I just moved here from China. I don't know anyone, and I'm sorry to bother you. I'm sure you do not want some random exchange student sitting with you."

"Oh nonsense," the green eyed one said, waving his hand. "Don't be ridiculous. You're no trouble at all. My name is Arthur. That one there, the one with the curl, is Matthew. And the one with blue eyes is-"

"Alfred F. Jones, at your service!" he exclaimed, saluting at Yao. "I'm the star quarterback around here, so you're sitting with royalty, my friend! Mattie is my cousin, but everyone thinks we're twins. But don't be mistaken! And this one," he slung his arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer, "is the absolute love of my life, Arthur Kirkland, one day going to be Jones!"

"Alfred," Arthur scolded, swatting him away. "I apologize for my boyfriend, he can be a bit excessive. He does mean well."

"Is China nice?" Matthew asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, yes, it's beautiful. I do miss it. Not to say that America isn't wonderful! There's so much to learn though, I have yet to experience everything. I'm sure it's all great!"

"Don't fret so much," Arthur laughed. "I was the same way when I moved here from London. It really isn't that great."

"London? Really? I should've guessed from the accent," Yao said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Beautiful city. I hope to go back one day and visit my brothers. I haven't seen them since I moved here seven years ago."

"Oh, c'mon, Artie, they'll be invited to the wedding, and you'll see them all!" Alfred said.

"Hush yourself, love, you're far too loud," Arthur said, breaking off part of a piece of chicken from his sandwich. "Now, c'mon. You've got to eat."

Never before had Yao seen someone's facial expression change so quickly. Alfred's smile drained from his face. He turned away from Arthur, refusing to even touch the piece of chicken he was being offered.

"Love, please, just a bite," Arthur murmured, resting his hand on Alfred's arm. "I won't fight you anymore after this. Just a little piece? Please?"

Alfred looked down, almost as if he was staring at his stomach, before giving a small nod. He took the chicken, breathed in deeply, and plopped it in his mouth. It was so painful to watch him chew; he looked like he was being strangled. But Arthur looked quite the opposite. He was smiling, arms wrapping around Alfred's torso.

"That's it. That's great, Alfred," he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Alfred said nothing. Yao, though curious, didn't say anything. He continued to eat until he was slammed rather forcefully into the table.

"Mathieu!" Yao heard someone shout from behind him. Accent thick and what he believed to be French, the man behind him had shoulder length blonde hair and stubble on his chin. "How are you, _mon petit?"_

He seemed to be talking to Matthew. The boy turned red, pushing the French man away. "Francis, please. You're embarrassing me," Matthew pleaded, only causing Francis to let out a cry.

"But, Mathieu, I haven't seen you all day! Haven't you missed me?" Francis said, hugging Matthew around the shoulders.

"I saw you just this morning," Matthew replied. "And I will see you after school is over. Besides, don't you have a class to teach this period?"

"_Oui._ But I couldn't bear not seeing you for another minute!"

"Go to class, Francis," Matthew said, turning away from him.

"But-"

"I'll watch America's Next Top Model with you after school if you go."

Smiling brightly, the Francis man nodded, squeezing Matthew in one last hug before skipping away, flailing his arms like a mad man.

"Not to intrude," Yao said to Matthew, "but who was that?"

"My older brother," Matthew sighed, nibbling on a cookie. "He's the French teacher here. He's very affectionate and overbearing. It's best to just ignore him."

Yao nodded. Was anything at this school normal? Everything seemed to be so complicated and over dramatic. Nothing was ever simple.

The four of them chatted for a bit about themselves and what they liked to do. With each word, Yao found it easier and easier to talk to them. Maybe that was his problem, he didn't initiate any conversations; he just waited for them to come to him. But it was nice to talk to someone outside of his family again. Communication for a teenager was a part of growing up, he supposed, and he had been deprived of it for a while.

"Hey, Mattie, don't look now, but you're lover's here," Alfred said, pointing to the opposite side of the cafeteria. There was a tall man with silver-white hair talking to a brown haired girl. Even from where Yao was sitting he could see the red of the man's eyes.

"He is not my lover, Alfred," Matthew said defensively though the love sick look in his eyes told a different story.

"That's Mr. Beilschmidt, the gym teacher," Alfred said. "Mattie's _totally _got the hots for him."

"I don't!"

"Your boner says otherwise."

"Alfred!"

Yao looked at Arthur who just rolled his eyes. It must've been a daily occurrence for him, but Yao didn't think he minded all that much.

"If you two would stop bickering, you would see that he's coming over here," Arthur said, biting into his apple. Alfred perked up, rubbing his hands together in excitement. Matthew tugged on his hair, covering his face.

"Hey, kiddies!" Mr. Beilschmidt greeted, sitting himself down next to Alfred. "How's life?"

"Just fabulous," Alfred sung before resting his chin in his hand and looking over to Matthew. "But I think Matthew's just got a whole lot better."

"Is that right?" Mr. Beilschmidt said, looking at Matthew. "And why's that?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's because you-"

"Yao!" Matthew interrupted, glaring at his cousin. "This is Mr. Beilschmidt. Mr. Beilschmidt, this is Yao. He just transferred here from China."

"Oh, yeah! Lizzie was telling me something about some new students or something earlier, but I can never remember what she says. The woman talks too much. Nice to meet you, kid. And, Matthew," Mr. Beilschmidt said, "I thought I told you that you're all allowed to call me Gilbert."

"I uh…forgot."

"Well, best to remember!" Gilbert said, standing back up. "Bells 'bout to ring. Gotta get back to the gym before all the freshmen get there. They're like animals!" Before he left, he made a point to clap Matthew on the shoulder and smile. "See you eighth period, Mattie!" Allowing his hand to linger there, Gilbert made his leave.

"We better get going," Arthur said, sliding his bag over his shoulder. "Sixth period is about to start. Matthew? Are you alright?" Matthew, eyes glued to the door of the cafeteria where Gilbert had just disappeared through, looked up at Arthur, blushing fiercely. He nodded, grabbing his things and sped away, head downcast.

"Told ya he's got the hots for him," Alfred teased. Arthur slapped him on the chest, taking a hold of his hand.

"Be nice, Alfred," he said, tugging on him. "It was really nice to meet you, Yao. Will you be joining us tomorrow?"

Jaw dropping just slightly, Yao said, "Only if that's alright!"

"We've told you, it's perfectly fine. We'll see you tomorrow, Yao." Alfred waved at him, following Arthur to the door.

Yao grinned to himself. Success felt good. Three people had taken an interest in him, and none of them were intimidating or insane.

Maybe America wasn't as bad as he thought.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>


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